


Things We Lost

by keycat



Series: Gray/MacCready one shots [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycat/pseuds/keycat
Summary: After a rash of unusual behavior, Gray disappears without a word, and MacCready vows to get to the bottom of it.





	1. Chapter 1

When it happened, MacCready paid it no mind at first.

They’d been on their feet for hours, tracking down some Pickman asshole, and Gray was exhausted. He tired easily these days, and MacCready found it endearing. When they’d first met, Gray rarely slept, and when he did, it was in such a state of hyper-alertness that he may as well not even have bothered. He still pushed himself too hard and too far, but at least now, when he did finally break from exhaustion, MacCready was always there, tucked under one protective arm, listening to the quiet whistle of Gray’s shallow breathing as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep that would be impossible to wake him from.

Today, though, was different. Gray built a fire, as he usually did, keeping it low, almost just a bed of charcoals out of fear of drawing attention, as always. But instead of putting it out and reluctantly allowing MacCready to crawl over to him when he’d decided he was ready for bed, he instead retreated to the inside of the diner they’d taken shelter in without a word. MacCready raised an eyebrow but chalked Gray’s unusual behavior up to him being exceptionally tired, so he quickly drowned the fire and trotted after Gray, hunkering down next to him and curling up against his side, already overcome with the immense heat rolling off him, it hadn’t quite struck MacCready as odd yet that Gray was still in his clothes, he always slept in the nude--

“There’s a sleeping bag over there for you,” Gray said, his voice toneless. He hadn’t even opened his eyes.

MacCready jumped up. “Oh,” he said, and retreated to the second sleeping bag.  _ He must be getting sick.  _ It was the only explanation, really. He was warm, hot, really-- _ he’s always warm, though-- _ and yet still inexplicably was in his clothes, so he had to have been running a fever. It made sense, he didn’t want MacCready to catch whatever he had.

He felt a small ache of longing as he retreated to the other sleeping bag, though, feeling somewhat empty. It was for the better, sure, but he still wanted to feel Gray’s arms around him, had been looking forward to it since he first saw Gray show the earliest stages of sleep taking over. It was little things; his body first began to slump as he walked, he would scuff his boots and once in a great while would trip over his own feet but quickly manage to right himself. 

MacCready sighed as he unzipped the sleeping bag and draped it over himself, turning away so that Gray couldn’t see the erection that had been steadily building since he’d put out the fire. It had been almost three weeks since they’d last fucked and he was getting antsy. He’d assumed Gray was too, and he’d seen the signs that Gray had been wearing down over the last few days. Now that he was finally asleep in one of his dead slumps, MacCready could barely contain himself. He knew Gray always got up to pee after just a few hours--”just something that comes with age, kid”--and he was always in a much better mood after; not quite awake enough to hit the road, but definitely awake enough to quietly and slowly--what was the term? It didn’t feel like  _ fucking,  _ but any other term put too fine a point on it and made MacCready roll his eyes at how corny it sounded. Maybe what they were doing could be called  _ making love,  _ but you sure as hell wouldn’t catch Robert Joseph MacCready saying it out loud.

When Gray finally did get up-- _ gotta stick to the routine, where would he be without his routine-- _ MacCready shuffled a bit, yawned, and rolled over, rubbing fake sleep from his eyes as he did. “Are you up?” he muttered sleepily, his stomach in knots. He was nervous, that was never a good sign. His subconscious seemed to be picking up on things he didn’t want to admit to himself. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Gray said, but continued back to his own sleeping bag without even so much as a glance at MacCready, who propped himself up on his elbows.

“Um--are you--” He suddenly felt like he shouldn’t ask. Something deep within him, something he was trying desperately hard to ignore, was slowly perking up in alarm.

Gray scrubbed a hand tiredly over his face. “What do you want?”

His tone struck MacCready like a slap across the face, and MacCready bit his lip. “Nothing,” he said, and his heart sank as Gray shrugged and went back to his sleeping bag.  _ Something is definitely wrong. _

 

***

 

MacCready tried to ignore the previous night’s events in his mind when he woke with a jolt the next morning. It was early, really early, and Gray was still asleep. MacCready looked over at his still form, and he was filled with a sickening, aching longing. It disgusted him sometimes, how much he loved this man. This miserable, stoic bastard, never quite happy unless he was with MacCready. Knowing that he was the one thing that kept Gray from being controlled by his anger made him feel...important. Like he was needed. And he loved it. Loved Gray. 

He couldn’t stop himself. He crawled over to Gray’s side and gently picked his way over the old mercenary’s body, careful not to tread on him, expecting Gray to sense his presence at any time and swim slowly out of sleep, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips as he crushed MacCready to his chest, murmuring quiet hellos and nipping at ears and necks and playfully wrestling before collapsing into one another’s arms, sighing contentedly and  _ fuck  _ MacCready loved it when Gray was playful, it was so rare but seeing him so relaxed made MacCready’s heart swell--

He was suddenly dislodged and thrown to the floor; Gray snapped awake with a tremendous snort, snatching a handgun from the floor and pointing it directly at MacCready, who could do nothing but lay curled on his side, hands up in defense, complete shock and misery written on his face as he waited for Gray to realize his mistake and apologize, to gather him in his arms and say that he would never mean to point a gun at him, never…

_ Is this where I’m at with him? Praying for him to hug me because he accidentally almost shot me? _

“The fuck are you doing?” Gray said, lowering his gun and running a hand through his hair. “I could have killed you.”

“I guess you could have,” MacCready said, standing up and covering himself with his arms as best he could.

Gray sighed. “Don’t be like that. Come here. I’m sorry.”

Excitedly, MacCready let his hands fall and he dropped clumsily to all fours, scrambling into Gray’s lap and he threw his arms around Gray’s neck, toppling them both to the ground, and before he could stop to wonder if he should or not, he found his mouth on Gray’s, kissing him deeply. He was grinding his hips against him in a way that said clearly  _ I need you,  _ and for a split second Gray kissed him back, his large hands gripped painfully around MacCready’s upper arms, holding him close in an almost frenzied panic...but then, it was over, so quickly that MacCready felt he had imagined it; now, Gray was simply allowing himself to be kissed, his lips moved under MacCready’s but they were only yielding, waiting for MacCready to have his fill and be done with it. Cautiously, MacCready pulled back to study the expression on Gray’s face. Was he tired again? No. His eyebrow was cocked just slightly, one corner of his mouth tugged downwards in an impatient frown.  _ Oh boy. _ MacCready suddenly felt his whole body run cold, and he slid off of Gray without a word. For a moment he couldn’t explain the feeling, and why it felt so familiar, but then it hit him--he’d felt this way once before, when he’d been told that they were no longer “doing this”. No longer screwing around.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, so low that Gray probably didn’t even hear him. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly, and he walked directly past his sleeping bag, scooping up the clothes he’d left in a tangled heap with his rifle tossed indifferently on top, and continued out the door without a word.

 

***

 

The Nuka-Cola was warm and flat. Not like the cold stuff they’d been drinking at Nuka-World. MacCready had to admit, he’d been spoiled during their stay. The food was good, the Nuka was good, but he had immensely disliked the raiders, and he didn’t like the way that guy Gage sucked up to Gray, the way he looked at him…

_ Oh no. _ That guy Gage? Him and Gray? No, not possible. Gray hadn’t liked Gage that much either, he’d confessed it when the two of them were scaling one of the old attractions. Gage had stayed firmly on the ground, saying the only things that should be that high up were birds and idiots who wanted to fall to their death.

“What’s his problem?” MacCready had asked, watching Gage pace angrily far below the--what was it called? Roller coaster? The sign said  _ Angry Anaconda _ but he was pretty sure an anaconda was a type of snake.

“Afraid of heights, s’my guess,” Gray said, looking down as well.

MacCready snickered. “And he wants to be your right hand man.”

“He’d like to. I’ve already got one, though,” Gray said, smirking and looking back at MacCready, who was coming up behind him just close enough that he could put a boot on one shoulder and give him a gentle shove backwards.

“Go ahead and kick me off, you’ll find out just how quick of a shot I am,” MacCready said, grabbing him by the ankle and giving it a swift yank.

Gage’s voice barely reached them, but his tone was clear:  _ “be careful, boss!” _

MacCready cringed inwardly. There was a time when that’s what he had called Gray, and hearing anyone else call him that...it felt wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Gray asked, noticing that MacCready had stopped climbing; instead, he was busy looking down at Gage, the mild jealousy poorly concealed. “What? Gage? You got a problem with him?”

“No,” MacCready said immediately. “I just...I don’t know, I don’t like how he talks to you.”

“Relax, kid,” Gray said, and at the use of his pet name--the closest thing Gray would ever have to a pet name for him, anyway--MacCready felt a good amount of the jealousy dissipate. “He’s not my type. I don’t like brown-nosing punks, and I like raiders even less.”

“He’d quit the raider thing if you asked him to,” MacCready said, trying hard to hide the pout on his face.

“That counts as brown-nosing, though, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does,” MacCready said, feeling all but the smallest sliver of jealousy evaporate.

He still couldn’t help but wonder now as he sat outside, fully dressed and squatting under one of the diner’s eaves and smoking a cigarette, the warm Nuka abandoned, if Gray was losing interest. Maybe not so much losing interest, as he was finding himself wanting someone closer to his own age. Gage was old and tired, like Gray. They had similar interests. They were both incurable jackasses. The jealousy, now accompanied by a gut-wrenching fear, had returned in full force.

A scuffing of boots near the doorway attracted his attention, and he ducked down, out of sight. He didn’t want Gray to see him, he needed to know, right then and there, just how distraught Gray would be to lose him. He peered around the corner and saw Gray was looking around, slowly, carefully, and MacCready jumped back immediately. Gray’s eyes were sharp despite his age, he didn’t miss a thing and would definitely see MacCready trying to spy on him. He held his breath; Gray was impossibly light on his feet, too, he’d probably sneak up on him any second now, irritated, but relieved to have found him.

He waited, but it never came, and when he finally summoned the courage to peek back around the side of the building again, Gray was gone.

 

***

 

MacCready had never cried so hard in his life. He’d made himself sick three times and suspected he wasn’t done, if he had anything left in him to throw up. He had no lead or indication as to where Gray would have gone, he had searched the diner, hoping that maybe he’d just gone inside but there was no trace of him. No indication that he’d even been there. The sleeping bag he’d slept under was no longer warm, the handgun he’d inexplicably had on him was gone, despite the fact that he already owned three weapons and had no need for a fourth...everything about Gray was so unusual all of a sudden and MacCready had no answers for it. All he knew was that Gray had given the landscape a cursory glance, seen that MacCready was nowhere to be found, and had taken off, leaving MacCready with the sick realization that he wasn’t coming back. He hoped and prayed and waited, but by nightfall, Gray still hadn’t returned, and MacCready howled in despair when it sunk in that he should have spent the day tracking, but now, it was too late.

Traders had come by just before nightfall, and MacCready had run to them, gibbering and sobbing and asking if they’d seen a mercenary, he’s about this tall, wearing a black Brotherhood uniform, has slightly greying hair? _ Okay, more than slightly? _ But all of them shook their head no and continued on their way, leaving MacCready to collapse onto the sleeping bag that Gray had used the night before. He was being loud, he knew it, he was drawing attention, but he didn’t care. Let the raiders come. He’d already lost everything.

_ You’re being dramatic. _ He knew what Gray would say if he saw him now, could already hear it in Gray’s deep, disapproving voice.  _ Pull yourself together. _ No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Didn’t want to. He didn’t even have the faintest idea of what made Gray leave so suddenly, couldn’t fathom what he’d done, but it had to have been  _ something. _ He ran through his head what he could have possibly done, but nothing came to mind. Had he been too clingy? Maybe. Maybe it wasn’t anything he did, maybe Gray just couldn’t bring himself to tell MacCready that his heart belonged to Gage now. Was it a comforting thought? He couldn’t tell.  _ On the one hand, he still cares enough about me not to hurt my feelings. But on the other, he’s... _ he couldn’t finish the thought. The idea of someone else pinning Gray to a wall, rutting their cock against him, holding his arms in place over his head while he gasped and fought back for control, something he’d rarely allowed MacCready to have but he couldn’t kid himself, Gage was older, heavier, stronger, and wouldn’t put up with a guy like Gray playing at being in charge…

MacCready shook his head to clear his thoughts. God, no. Gray was  _ his _ . Wasn’t he? Maybe he didn’t have a right to say he owned someone but Gray belonged to him as much as he belonged to Gray, right? A few days ago he’d have said yes. Hell, Gray probably would have agreed with him. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Apparently he knew nothing about Gray anymore.

MacCready pulled the hem of the sleeping bag over himself as he cried harder. Why was he so weak? Why couldn’t he handle the idea of Gray leaving? Worst of all, why was he crying over a man who clearly cared nothing for him and had walked away without a second thought?

This calmed him down briefly as he bitterly contemplated what he might say if he ever saw Gray again. He knew he wouldn’t, not that he wanted to anyway.  _ Don’t kid yourself, anyone can tell that’s a lie. _ He already knew how it would go, he could plan out all the horrible things he wanted to say to him-- _ ”where the fuck do you get off thinking you can treat me like that? After everything I’ve done for you? You said you loved me, man! You’d die for me!”-- _ but in the end, he probably wouldn’t be able to say anything at all, he’d probably just start hitting, throwing punches that Gray had taught him to throw, Gray would stop him effortlessly and knock him to the ground and it would hurt, even more knowing that Gray had meant to hurt him. Even worse, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hit Gray, he kept finding himself conflicted over the image of himself punching Gray hard enough in the jaw to knock him on his ass, watching him sit up and angrily spit blood only to take another hit that broke his nose and sent blood cascading down his chin and neck. He wanted to do it, badly. Gray deserved it. But just the image of Gray wiping blood from his face and looking up at him with sheer loathing...he couldn’t. No.

What was worse than even that was the idea of finding him with that raider. Being told in simple terms that he had no  _ right _ to be upset. “Don’t you want what’s best for me?” Gray would ask in an infuriating tone that was both calm and accusatory. “If I don’t love you anymore, shouldn’t you want me to be with someone who  _ does  _ make me happy?” and that raider, that  _ fucking  _ raider, would stand by, arms crossed, just waiting for Gray to sort out his dirty laundry so they could get back to...whatever. MacCready almost stood up and started pacing, but instead wiped away the remainder of the angry tears by rolling over and grinding his face into the pillow Gray had slept on the night before.

He needed closure. He couldn’t go on like this, he knew that much, it would drive him crazy. He didn’t know where to even start and a part of him didn’t even care, all his plans for the future had left without a single backwards glance leaving him scrambling for purpose and now he had one. It was short-sighted, but, he reasoned, pulling his rifle close as he settled down to try and go to sleep, he probably had plenty of time to figure out his next step.

 

***

 

Gray couldn’t track. It’s the only reason he kept MacCready around, he’d said on numerous occasions. So if he was looking for Gage--and MacCready wasn’t exactly sure  _ why  _ he was so sure that Gray was dead-set on finding Gage, but he just felt it in his gut and so far, his gut instincts regarding Gray hadn’t been wrong yet--he would probably high-tail it straight to Nuka-World. He had friends there, he could get supplies. MacCready, not so much. Gray might be able to find it in him to see to it that MacCready left with enough supplies to get him to wherever the hell he was going, but his raiders wouldn’t. Especially not after he came in and punched their overboss.

_ His  _ raiders. The idea made him sick. They were better than that, weren’t they? Gage hadn’t thought so, and it had thoroughly incensed him  _ and  _ Gray at the time.

“Mercenaries, huh?” Gage had said in that infuriatingly slow drawl. He chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, switching his weight from one foot to another as he regarded Gray and MacCready, looking them up and down from beneath his eyelashes as though they were a pair of dogs he was interested in buying. “You know what we like to call mercenaries aroun’ here?”

“The suspense is killing me,” Gray said, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on his shotgun, which hadn’t left his grasp since they’d first walked into Nuka-World.

“S’nothing bad,” Gage said, but the way he smirked at MacCready told him he was about to be pissed off. “The way we see it, mercenaries are jus’ raiders with a code of ethics, is all.”

Gray’s upper lip curled in disgust, and he almost looked as though he were going to just walk away. “Really?” His tone was flat, and MacCready recognized it. That was the tone Gray took before things got violent, which quickly took the wind out of his sails. As much as he’d taken an immediate dislike to Gage, he didn’t want to see Gray lose his temper and kill the guy, not when there was God-knew-how-many of his raider buddies just crawling around, waiting for an excuse to nail the both of them to the wall.

“Gray,” MacCready muttered, putting a hand on Gray’s arm, who flinched back, but glanced down at MacCready and seemed to understand his concern, because he sighed through gritted teeth and allowed his grip to slacken.

“Raiders’ll hit up anyone, so long as they suspect they’re carryin’ caps or booze or what-the-hell-ever. Now what about mercenaries? They’ll hit up anyone s’long as someone else has got the caps or the booze. Now tell me how that’s any differen’.” Gage spread his hands wide, palms up, looking smug, and MacCready wondered how many times he’d pulled the same line on other mercenaries. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t buying it. He was no raider, and neither was Gray. 

“Mercenaries don’t keep traders penned up with shock collars around their necks,” Gray snarled, and MacCready could just feel the building rage rolling off him.

“Gray, be cool, man, you’re gonna get us both killed,” MacCready said under his breath, keeping his gaze low, and he could tell Gray wanted to snap, but he inhaled deeply and his body relaxed again.

“S’pose they don’t,” Gage said, then turned his attention to MacCready. “So who’s this one, anyway? Brother? Cousin? Yer sister died, didn’t feel right lettin’ him wander off on his own?”

MacCready’s temper flared and he had to stop himself from lunging at Gage. “I’m 22,” he said hotly.

“Oh, shit,” Gage said, laughing, which made MacCready’s blood boil even further. “Gettin’ ‘em young while you still can then, eh? Better hang on to him. Take it from me, yer looks won’t last you much longer.”

At this, Gray finally loosened up a bit, and he let his shotgun hang limply from his hands. “Oh, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’d fall to pieces without me,” he said, tousling MacCready’s hair through his hat, and at the time, MacCready had found it endearing. Just Gray being Gray, expressing affection the only way he knew how. Now…

_ Just as narcissistic as ever. ‘Oh, he can’t even function without me’. Well if you really believed that then why would you leave me all alone out here? _ Oh, boy. That was a rock he’d prefer to leave unturned. He finished rechecking that his pack had everything in it--two remaining tins of water, three loaded magazines and a box of loose ammunition, three boxes of apples, half a pack of cigarettes, six matches. More than enough to get him home to Starlight to resupply, but not quite to make it to Nuka-World. He’d need to kill and eat something soon, too, it had been a while since he had protein...

_ Can’t function without you. Hmpf. I’m doing just fine, aren’t I? _ He slung his pack onto his back and felt a momentary pang of worry.  _ What if he is coming back and is surprised to find I’m not here? _ He shook his head.  _ No. He wouldn’t sneak off and be gone all day and night and expect me to still be sitting here waiting. And if he did...well. Then he can fuck right off. _

 

_ *** _

 

They hadn’t been to the truck stop in a while, and any time they left they usually came back to find Minutemen had taken up shop behind the nearly impenetrable fence Gray had built, casually apologizing and insisting that they’d heard from a friend of a friend’s cousin that the place had been abandoned, that some old guy used to live here and was dead now, just a misunderstanding, we’ll be leaving now. Of course, every now and again one of them would give Gray a sideways glance as they were herded out, gripping their musket just a bit tighter, drawing it up just a hair, but so far, none of them had made a move. Maybe MacCready just still stank of Gunner, maybe Gray’s uniform was off-putting, but the Minutemen just didn’t seem to trust either of them.

MacCready was caught up in his thoughts, wondering if Gray would finally just abandon the truck stop and take up permanent residence in Nuka-World, wondering if he should pass along the good news to the Minutemen, that they could finally have their friggin’ outpost, and hey, if he was wrong and Gray  _ did  _ try to come back, that’d piss him right the hell off, it was a win-win--when he caught sight of the smoke.

His first thought was _ , are they having a bonfire?  _ and the one right after was  _ Gray’s gonna be pissed.  _ But the closer he got, the more apparent it was becoming that the truck stop  _ had  _ been abandoned, by more than just Gray. Entire sections of the fence had been run down, the cars that shored up the northern side of the fence were just smoking husks, and the walls of the building were splattered with graffiti--graffiti that MacCready recognized.  _ Gunners. _

He broke into a trot, then a run, and then a sprint, stopping dead in his tracks just outside the garage door. The few belongings they had lay strewn about, either broken or torn into. The collection of lunchboxes that once stood on the table in the corner was gone, a few were scattered at his feet, dented in or pulled apart, and his robot figures were nowhere to be seen. Gray’s American flag, the one he’d found folded into a triangle and stored carefully in a wooden box and never explained the significance of to MacCready, had been torn down and ripped along one of it’s stripes.

Venturing further into the truck stop, he found that even his nest of sleeping bags hadn’t escaped the slaughter. Each one of them had been torn apart, either cut into ribbons or torched, and, on top of the remains, was the small wooden soldier he’d given to Gray months ago. They knew who it belonged to, and they knew who slept here. Obviously. They had to. And now they were sending him a message.

Tucking the soldier into his pack, he made his way back outside to look for anything salvageable. He was entirely too focused on the graffiti covering the fence when his foot collided with something hard, and he looked down, startled. On the ground, a shotgun lay discarded, and he hesitantly bent to pick it up.  _ It can’t be...it’s not… _

The barrel was etched with three short slash marks. Three deathclaw kills. It was Gray’s shotgun. Blood was caked in long thin streaks down the barrel, and MacCready chipped at it with his thumbnail. It was old, all of it, which was a bad sign. It meant Gray hadn’t gotten a single hit in on whoever ambushed him. 

_ Unless… _

MacCready felt like an icy, bony hand had suddenly slithered under his flesh and cinched it’s fingers tightly around his spine. It had suddenly occurred to him that there was no blood  _ anywhere. _ No bodies, no sign of any sort of struggle, and that wasn’t Gray’s nature at all. He was ruthless. Terrifyingly efficient. And on top of that, his freedom was one of the few things he held close to his heart. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to be taken prisoner. Not easily. So what the hell…?

MacCready slung Gray’s shotgun onto his back and paced again around the wreckage of the place that, just yesterday, he’d called home. No bodies. No blood. No blood meant Gray hadn’t killed a single Gunner. But then, they hadn’t killed him either. But he’d  _ been _ here.

They’d outnumbered him, more than likely, MacCready realized--there were discarded cigarette butts nearly carpeting the ground. He wandered around even further. The graffiti was generic, the Gunners were fiercely loyal to their flag and rarely deviated from their skull tag. So that wasn’t helpful. Without a name it was hard to guess the motivations of whoever had ordered the hit on the truck stop. He looked again at the obscene amount of cigarette butts littering the ground. _ So there was either a whole hell of a lot of them, or just a few of them waiting for quite some time. _ Neither was good news. Gunners rarely traveled in packs for just one guy, and they rarely would wait in place for longer than a few hours for just one guy. No, Gray had apparently become a thorn in one of the higher-ups’ sides, and the commanders had a way of making examples out of thorns.

 

***

 

It had taken the better part of the day for MacCready to reach the Gunner’s outpost, set up a nest in the trees, and a checkpoint in one of the nearby boxcars; somewhere to run to if they managed to get out alive but just barely. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, the Gunners fortress was patrolled day and night around the perimeter, and even  _ if  _ he could somehow pick off each perimeter guard, what was he going to do once he was inside? Just walk in and ask for Gray back? 

_ Yeah, sure, walk right into a hornet’s nest of people who hate you and ask them to turn over a guy they probably hate even more. Sure. That’s a good idea.  _ But he scowled and ground his knuckles into his forehead; there was a time when Gray would have done it for him. He didn’t care that Gray didn’t want him anymore, he’d realized on his long walk that it didn’t matter, maybe someday he’d move on like Gray wanted but at the moment he still loved him and couldn’t just leave him to the Gunners. He knew what the Gunners were capable of. They weren’t quite raiders, but if Gray were still alive, he wouldn’t exactly be comforted by that fact.

MacCready let his eyes travel over the plaza, searching for an in, a chink in the armor, wondering if Blake, that jackass who always fell asleep at his post, still patrolled the gate at the side. He let himself fall back in time for a moment, examining not as an intruder but as a friendly face, seeking out weaknesses to report.  _ Yes sir, if I was trying to sneak in, I’d come in around the side, Blake is asleep, again. _ He passed indifferently over three turrets near the front gate, they had broken down years ago and finding replacement parts had proved too troublesome, but would-be intruders didn’t know that so they remained standing. He continued to overlook certain things that he knew were irrelevant; the heap of broken down cars that were meant to trick raiders into thinking it was perfect cover when in reality it left them at the perfect vantage point for a sniper on the roof, the idiot on the roof conspicuously carrying a fat man that MacCready knew wasn’t loaded, the poor bastard strung up indifferently near the front gate--

He had to do a double-take. He’d often seen people tied and practically put on display here, but he went to great lengths to pay them no mind. It was none of his business. But now, it was very much his business. Gray’s body was coiled with duct tape, someone had wrapped it around his ankles, then his thighs, and then his waist for good measure in one continuous strip before tearing it off, there was more covering his mouth and continuing completely around the back of his head, his wrists were tied and spread wide, suspended just high enough that he was only just resting his weight on his knees. His head had fallen forward onto his chest and his body was slumped, his weight straining at the tethers on his wrists--but his shoulders still rose and fell. He was still alive. Barely, and MacCready shook with rage-- _ what the fuck did they do to him?-- _ but he  _ was  _ alive, and that filled MacCready with a sense of determination, a cocktail of adrenaline and fury and a need to see Gray walk away from this. Gray could push him aside and walk off without a word when it was all said and done, MacCready didn’t care.

There were two people standing by, one of them talking animatedly to the other, gesturing angrily at Gray, who made only the slightest indication that he was even aware of their presence. Guards was probably too strong a word for these two, they seemed blind to the world around them; their concern seemed entirely with Gray and what to do with him, not on whether or not he’d try to escape or someone making a foolish attempt to spring him.  _ Foolish, there’s a good word. _

“...we gave him his chance and he fucked us over,” the angry, gesturing one was saying. She was thin and wiry, like MacCready, and with a jolt he realized that he recognized her.  _ Sadie. Long time no see.  _ He’d hoped that she had gotten out by now, although he couldn’t explain what made him think she would. He’d done it, why wouldn’t she?  _ Maybe because she has friends still. One less, but... _

“We’re not supposed to--just leave him be, alright? He’ll be dead by morning anyway, just leave--”

“No. No way. This fucker made me look like an idiot. He made it personal.” Sadie took a fistful of Gray’s hair and thrust his head back; he made a quiet, almost disinterested grunt of pain and regarded her with a resigned, pleading expression. It grated at MacCready’s chest and he could see there was already a collection of steadily-darkening bruises formed around Gray’s throat and face; he had to look away as he continued crawling through the underbrush to get closer. “For that, I want to watch him die.  _ Slowly _ ,” Sadie said, jerking Gray forward again and taking her belt off. Gray tiredly watched her yank the belt from its loops and fold it in half, seemingly waiting for her partner to give her the go-ahead.

MacCready had been creeping closer and closer, listening to their exchange and his stomach dropped. She wouldn’t kill him, no way, that wasn’t like her at all, the Sadie he knew was carefree, able to find laughter in almost anything-- _ ”I saw you almost fall off the highway the other day. Glad you’re okay, but I just kept picturing you landing in front of some scavver, and he’d be like ‘what the fuck?!’”-- _

“Hold his head,” Sadie instructed, and her partner deliberated; he sat and looked over his shoulder while Gray made one final, weak struggle against his bindings. 

He looked back with a nervous, almost conspiratorial look. “Alright, fine.” He hooked an arm around Gray’s head and forced it back, exposing his throat, and Sadie stepped forward, looping her belt around his neck and cinching it tight. Her partner let go, and Gray struggled with a newfound strength against the belt that was now killing him.

_ Oh God. She’s bluffing. She has to be. There’s no way.  _ But Sadie stood with her arms crossed, watching Gray twist and yank in vain; already weak, his remaining strength was leaving him quickly.  _ Come on, Sadie, please, take it off, just take it off and walk away, it doesn’t have to be this way… _

Sadie wasn’t bluffing. She watched Gray almost impatiently, while her partner fidgeted uncomfortably, muttering to himself that they were gonna get caught, that the commander was gonna be pissed when they found out.

MacCready’s rifle had been out, and he held it now in trembling hands, propping the barrel on his knee and peering down the scope. He didn’t have a choice, he had to. He centered Gray’s chest in his crosshairs and tightened his finger around the trigger.  _ He doesn’t deserve to die this way. This is what he would have wanted, _ MacCready said to himself, closing his eyes and letting the air out of his lungs.  _ I’m so sorry, man. I did everything I could. _ He squeezed...but stopped short.

_ I didn’t.  _ He angled the barrel of his gun to the left, trained it dead center on Sadie’s head, and fired. She fell before she even heard the shot. Her partner’s eyes grew round and his mouth dropped open in surprise before a bullet ripped through his own skull. He hadn’t even had time to pull his own gun.

MacCready dropped his rifle and sprinted through the remaining brush. Nettles and hubflower bushes slashed at his arms and legs, but he neither cared or felt them. Nothing else mattered but that he get to Gray’s side, who had seen both Sadie and her partner drop but was now teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, too far gone to care who had killed his executioners.

“Stay with me, man, stay with me,” MacCready said, even before he had skidded to a halt in front of Gray. He tore at the buckle, but his hands were shaking; he swallowed and steeled his nerve, muttering “ _ focus”  _ to himself over and over as he carefully fumbled with the clasp and pulled the belt free. He expected Gray to suck down a huge lungful of air as soon as he was free, jolting back to full consciousness as though he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water--but he remained slack against his bindings. “Don’t die, man, don’t die, you can’t, I...I saved you, man, just like in all the stories, you know, I…” He felt sick. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. 

He ripped at the duct tape covering Gray’s mouth, pulling it off and crumpling it into a ball, tossing it aside and taking his face in both hands and tilting it upward, but Gray remained limp, his eyes were closed, his head would have lolled to one side if MacCready let go. “Come on, breathe, please, Gray,  _ breathe,” _ MacCready said, absently rubbing his knuckles along the sides of Gray’s neck, hoping to get the blood flowing again. He tucked two fingers under Gray’s jaw, which was turning an angry shade of red, new dark splotches were forming just under MacCready’s fingers, which registered a very weak pulse. But it  _ was  _ there. He put his hand under Gray’s nose; he was breathing, but it was hardly noticeable.

“You’ve got to be okay, you can’t die out here...not when we were this close…” MacCready said, turning to Sadie, and he had to fight back the horrible guilt that was heaving in his stomach, threatening to knock him down and make him realize the full extent of what he’d done. He couldn’t do that. Not now. So he shoved aside the image that would be back to haunt him in his dreams, that of Sadie’s one remaining eye, glazed over and staring sightless at the empty night sky, as he turned her body over in search of a knife. He found one in her boot, and he quickly set to work cutting the ropes that suspended Gray’s wrists, gently lowering him to the ground and grinding the heel of his palm into each shoulder before folding Gray’s arms over his chest. He tried to ignore the mounting fear building inside him as it became more and more apparent that Gray wasn’t going to be able to move, instead, he tried to focus on cutting the duct tape binding Gray’s legs.

“Gray, come on, please, you have to get up, we’re not going far...I...I can’t carry you, I…” MacCready looked up and around; even if he were able to drag Gray’s near-unconscious body at least just far enough into the brush that they were out of sight, someone would either hear or see his slow progress. They weren’t getting out of there unless Gray could walk. And that wasn’t happening.

MacCready wanted to throw back his head and scream. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He had two options, as far as he could tell--to sit with Gray until he could move, which wasn’t likely to happen until he had medical attention, and MacCready, like an idiot, hadn’t brought a single stimpak, or he could retreat into the bushes and wait for Gray to either die or-- _ or nothing, _ he thought miserably. If he left Gray, he’d be dead. That’s all there was to it.

_ So I have one choice. _ He made an effort to judge the distance between their location and the boxcar he’d left his cache in, just over the next hill. Maybe a hundred yards. Maybe less. And the backside of the fortress wasn’t so heavily guarded. If he could skirt around the side and get to the back, he could probably take his time dragging Gray across the hardpan and into the boxcar, where he at least had a fighting chance of staying warm and dry and somewhat hidden until he could walk again.

“Alright, here goes,” MacCready said, pulling Gray into a sitting position. He wasn’t sure how long he could carry Gray on his back, but he had to try. He squatted between Gray’s legs and pulled his arms over his shoulders, holding him tightly by the elbows and standing up. He nearly tipped over under Gray’s weight, but he suddenly felt confident that he could do it. A hundred yards, that was child’s play. He could do it. He had to.

 

***

 

It was almost six hours before Gray finally stirred. MacCready had remained vigilant by his side the entire time, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, all prior worries about Gage forgotten.

Gray came to slowly, first drawing deep lungfuls of air through his nose, then swallowing, and then wincing. He gingerly touched his neck, and MacCready frowned. “It’s bruised pretty badly,” he said, and Gray jumped. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the boxcar that MacCready had taken refuge in, then the small bed of coals that MacCready had built over a cluster of cinder blocks, and then looking at MacCready. His expression was far from gratitude, and although MacCready had been expecting it, it had hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Visions of Gage’s infuriating smirk as Gray explained that he had no right to be upset came back in full force.

“Wha--” Gray started to say, his eyebrows furrowed angrily, forehead creased in distress, but was stopped short by a weak, strangled cough. He clapped a hand to his throat and screwed his eyes shut in pain.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” MacCready said, scooting closer, eyes searching for whatever could be hurting him. 

“Can’t speak,” Gray mouthed, and he screwed his eyes shut again.

MacCready rolled back onto his heels. “Well...that’s alright. I guess that makes this easier, then.”

Gray seemed to put his pain on hold as he raised an eyebrow and grimaced at MacCready. His confusion was clear.

“I’m not sure what I did, but that’s not important, I guess. I mean, whatever I did, I’m sorry, but--”

Gray slapped at MacCready’s thigh to get his attention, and his confusion seemed to be only deepening.

“Just listen! I’m sorry for whatever I did but I understand if you’re--” MacCready choked, but he knew he had to say it. He couldn’t leave things on bad terms between them. “I understand if you’ve had enough. If you want to move on. I...kinda had a suspicion that you and Gage might be. Um. You know.” Jesus, he hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to tell someone you loved that you were okay with them leaving. Part of him wanted to say to hell with being civil and to throw himself on the ground and beg for Gray to take him back, to remind him that he wouldn’t be alive if not for him...but that wasn’t fair.  _ Blackmail and love aren’t the same thing. _

Gray looked like he was going to laugh at MacCready, if it wouldn’t have felt like it was tearing his throat open. He mimed writing by holding one hand flat and tracing shapes over it with his finger, and MacCready nodded. “Uh, yeah, sure, I think I saw a board or something around here…” He fished a stick of charcoal from the fire and handed it to Gray, who shook his head when MacCready went to look for a board, instead rolling over and scratching a single word onto the side of the boxcar: COUSIN

“He--” MacCready was floored. “He’s your...how is that possible?” He traced back what he knew of Gray. He was from the south, much further south than even MacCready, born in Texas, but that had been 200 years ago, how was it possible that Gage...although, he did have that thick accent, but 200 years was still a long time. “Just because you’re both from Texas doesn’t mean you’re cousins,” MacCready said before he could stop himself.  _ Idiot, if they think they’re cousins they’re probably not gonna be fucking each other. At least...I don’t think they would. I can’t speak for Gage. _

Gray shook his head and shrugged, which MacCready assumed meant that he would explain later. 

“Well, so, alright, you’re not leaving me for Gage, but either way, if you’re done with me, I--”

“I didn’t leave,” Gray said, and his voice was incredibly thin and hoarse.

“Don’t, you’re gonna--” MacCready started, but Gray held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s important.” Gray paused, both summing up the strength to speak and searching for the right words. “Gunners were after you. Came to me with a deal, few weeks ago. Wanted you in exchange for caps, women, slaves, anything I wanted. Said no. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t give you up. Said no.” Gray lightly traced the bruises on his neck and sighed. “Persistent. Came back. If I turn you over now, they’ll kill you quickly, painlessly. Still offering caps and slaves, too. Said okay. Meet me at Red Rocket. Kid in tow, payment on delivery.”

MacCready’s insides were turning over and over, knotting themselves into pretzels. “So you--you pushed me away--”

“Couldn’t have you follow me. Gunners were pissed. Cuffed me. Slave collar. Plan was to sell me to whoever would take me. She didn’t like that. Said I was getting off easy.”

“You--why did you--Gray, they were gonna kill you,” MacCready said, fighting back tears. “Why would you do that?”

Gray shook his head again and didn’t speak. Instead, he took MacCready’s hand and held it to his chest, looking for a moment as though he were going to drift off again.

“You did this for me?” MacCready asked, sniffling, still struck with disbelief.

Gray opened one eye, gave MacCready a hard glare, then closed it and nodded slowly. “Weren’t supposed to follow.”

“What was I supposed to do?” He was steadily wiping away a stream of fat tears that seemed to leak out every time he blinked. He didn’t deserve this. He’d done nothing in his life to deserve the torture Gray had gone through for him. 

“Supposed to let me handle it.”

“That’s your idea of handling it?! Being sold as a slave, getting killed--just so they don’t get their hands on me?” MacCready was nearly in hysterics. 

“Lived my life, kid. Need to live yours.” Gray touched a hand to his neck again and shook his head. He was done talking. MacCready tried to pull his hand away, but Gray wouldn’t allow it, he tightened his grasp until MacCready’s fingers folded over one another and tears were streaming heavily down his face.

“Let  _ go,  _ you stubborn--” MacCready said, throwing his weight into one final yank before giving up, collapsing onto Gray’s chest, too defeated and miserable to cry anymore.

 

***

 

By late morning, it had become apparent that Gray wasn’t going to be able to speak again for a long time. The bruises around his neck had fully developed through the night, startling MacCready when he returned from his quick scouting mission around the area to find stimpaks and anything edible. He had dropped the box he was carrying in surprise at the sight, thinking that somehow Gray’s throat had closed up in his sleep and what he was looking at was dead, oxygen-starved flesh, but the sound had roused Gray with a start; he shot up and did a frantic sort of crab crawl until his back was against the wall of the boxcar, his shoulders heaving, his eyes wide, while MacCready hurriedly set to work collecting the things he’d dropped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...your neck, man, it’s…” MacCready put the last of the stimpaks away, one of them had broken and he had tipped it over curiously, wondering if you could drink the medication or if it had to be injected, before tossing it aside. He looked up to see Gray cocking his head to one side and raising an eyebrow.  _ This is how we communicate now, isn’t it? _ “It’s bad. You don’t want to see it.” He sighed and picked a handful of hard, dark berries rolling around in the bottom of the box. “I know you don’t like these, but--”

Gray shook his head.

“It’s all I could find, you have to.”

Shaking his head again more determinedly this time, Gray took an imaginary cup from the air and pretended to drink from it.

“You’re thirsty?”  _ Of course he’s thirsty. “ _ I’ll go find some water or Nuka or something, but, listen, when do you think you’ll be able to walk again? We need to get headed back as soon as you can, I want to put as much distance between us and the Gunners as possible. I was thinking we should probably move, too, I think it’s in our best interest if we stay full time at the bunker at Starlight.”

Gray stretched his legs out in front of him, massaging his thighs with his knuckles, and nodded. 

“Did they--” MacCready’s chest tightened. “What else did they do to you, besides collaring you?”

Gray shrugged and shook his head.

“Don’t lie to me. I  _ was  _ a Gunner, alright, I know what they do to people who piss them off.”

With a quiet sigh, Gray looked out the door of the boxcar, out into the marsh, and frowned. He stood up on creaking joints and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck before extending a hand to MacCready, who noted Gray’s instability and stood up on his own. Gray watched him, and then indicated for him to come closer, so that he could speak quietly, just barely audible, into MacCready’s ear. “Don’t make me relive it, kid.”

“Oh,” MacCready said, withdrawing almost immediately. He hadn’t thought... _ of course I didn’t think. I never think.  _ It hadn’t even occurred to him that Gray might just want to put this whole thing behind him. He readjusted his hat uncomfortably, using the band to scratch at an itch on the back of his head that wasn’t there and whistled to cover the uncomfortable silence. “Um. Well. You should...uh...stretch your legs, get ready to start walking. I’ll go find some water and we’ll get moving as soon as I get back.”

 

***

 

Something had changed between them, MacCready could tell, as they worked their way north. Progress was slow, and Gray was becoming more and more withdrawn, despite the hefty pad of paper and bundle of pens and pencils MacCready had picked up and tucked into Gray’s bandolier encouragingly.

“Now we can talk again,” MacCready had said, his face lighting up as he closed his hand around the pad, lying discarded at the bottom of a dusty toy chest that had been thrown into the yard of an apartment building. He turned around, expecting Gray to take it and the pen and immediately begin writing--but instead, he nodded once and tucked it into his belt pocket. At first MacCready just assumed he had nothing to say, he rarely did, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that a part of Gray had been left behind with the Gunners. When night fell, Gray seemed to collapse where he stood, disinterestedly lighting a fire while MacCready collected sticks, letting it build into a blaze before sitting in front of it and staring blankly into it, his knees drawn up to his chin.

“How are you feeling?” MacCready asked, pouring a tin of water into a kettle and throwing in a hunk of radstag meat, and then sitting down next to Gray, careful not to touch him.

Gray didn’t answer. He stuck his neck out just a bit so he could graze the tips of his fingers over it, wincing as he did so. Finally, he took the pad of paper from his belt pocket and began to write. MacCready peeked over his wrist, trying to read as he wrote, but between the size of Gray’s hand and his small, cramped handwriting, it was nearly impossible, so he gave up and waited until Gray tore the sheet off and handed it to MacCready.

 

_ not good. i dont know if ill be able to speak again. she wanted to cut my tongue out, so i guess i got lucky. i missed you, though. you were all i thought about when they _

 

A heavy black scribble was drawn over what came next, dug hard enough that it almost tore through the paper. MacCready traced his finger over it, wishing that he could alleviate the anger behind it, then folded the paper in half and slipped it in his pocket before scooting closer, hugging Gray’s arm, still unsure if he wanted to be touched. “I missed you, too. I thought you’d left.”

Gray took the pad again, and this time he just handed the entire thing to MacCready when he was done.

 

_ i know. it was easier this way. _

 

“I just don’t understand  _ why,  _ though, I mean...why would you...for  _ me, _ I…” MacCready set the pad of paper on the ground without thinking, but Gray didn’t need it. He took MacCready’s wrist and pulled him closer, he stumbled over Gray’s legs, trying to get his footing but Gray had hitched his hands under MacCready’s arms and was pulling him up and over, into his lap in a tangle of legs bent in uncomfortable angles. Neither of them seemed to care as Gray nuzzled against MacCready’s jaw, kissing and nipping at the short growth of hair while his hands found the hem of MacCready’s shirt and pushed it upwards.

MacCready slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside but neither of them made any effort to go further, Gray simply held MacCready on his lap and kissed him softly, the sound of their lips brushing together and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds breaking the still air. MacCready let his fingers roam but they didn’t go far, he merely dragged them through Gray’s hair, over the back of his head, his jawline, his ears, careful to avoid his neck at all costs. The frenzied panic was returning, MacCready could feel a genuine terror building in Gray and he reluctantly broke away.

“I think we should stop,” MacCready said, picking his hat up and drawing it low over his eyes in shame. “Maybe later, when we get to Starlight.”

Gray made a small sound in his chest; MacCready couldn’t decide if it was relief or disappointment, but nodded and lay down, inviting MacCready to join him, who did without a word.

 

***

 

MacCready woke to find himself alone, a scrap of paper tucked between his first two fingers, which was nearly impossible to read in the dying light of the fire.

 

_ i dont want you to see me like this. relax, im coming back. but please dont follow me this time. i promise you i will be back. --gray _

 

_ Like what?  _ MacCready’s mind raced, and he immediately stood up, every intention of going after Gray. He crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket, taking the kettle, now full of radstag broth, off the fire and setting it aside, snatching up his rifle and crouching back down, his ears pricked, listening for any sound that might point him in the right direction: a shuffling of boots, the steady sound of breathing, even just a sense of feeling eyes on his back. He let his head swivel like an owl’s at the first sound; it was a sound he almost didn’t recognize, coming from further down the bank that they were camped on. A quiet huffing of breath, drawn in quick succession--someone was crying.

MacCready flicked the safety off on his rifle and crept closer to the sound, convinced for a moment that he was going to have to dispatch this problem before he could continue searching for Gray, but as soon as he made it through the trees and peered past the thick, scarred trunks at the person sitting by the water, he let his rifle fall slack in his hands. It was Gray. He waited for a moment, unsure how to proceed--was Gray armed? Surprising him probably wasn’t a good idea--but apparently, Gray had already heard him.

“Told you not to follow me,” Gray said, his voice still hoarse, and it tugged at MacCready’s heartstrings.

“What are you doing out here?” MacCready asked, slinging his rifle onto his back and stepping into the clearing.

Gray didn’t respond, or even turn around. Cautiously, MacCready came closer until he was close enough to put a hand on Gray’s shoulder, who flinched and angled himself even further away from MacCready.

“I want to help,” MacCready said, retreating his hand and sitting down in the sand. “Please, let me help. I owe you that much.”

Gray swallowed and slowly got up on all fours to turn around and face MacCready before sitting back down in a lotus position, and MacCready was struck by just how deeply Gray’s tear-stained face affected him; he wanted badly to look away, but something told him that would only hurt Gray further. “Can’t do it,” he whispered.

“Can’t--what? I can try, please, at least let me try, you have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this,” MacCready said, almost on the verge of tears himself.

His words seemed to have the opposite effect that he had hoped for. Gray bared his teeth in agitation, mostly at himself, before turning back around and shaking his head.

“No, what did I--I didn’t mean it, whatever I said, I’m sorry, I--” MacCready said, crawling forward and putting a hand on Gray’s shoulder, which Gray shrugged off.

“Not strong enough,” Gray said. “Not for both of us.”

“What?”

Gray turned around again, the tears coming fast and heavy now. “I’m sorry. Know you’re hurting. Worried for me. Need me to be there for you. But...can’t. Can’t do it. Not strong enough.”

MacCready’s eyes went wide, so wide that the tears he was trying to keep trapped sprung free, trailing down his face and cutting two long trails in the grime caked on his cheeks. “Gray, I--I never even--I never realized--”  _ God, I’m such a fucking idiot. Stupid. Stupid. So fucking stupid.  _ “No, Gray, it’s not like that, you can--” He dashed away the tears with the back of his arm. “ _ I’m  _ here for you. Anything you need. You don’t need to be strong for both of us. You can hurt, buddy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Gray regarded him for a moment like he didn’t believe a word he’d said, and MacCready almost started to repeat himself. But then Gray threw himself into MacCready’s arms, sobbing nearly uncontrollably, his body heaving and hiccuping, all while MacCready gently rubbed his back and stroked his hair, whispering in his ear; “it’s okay, Gray. It’s okay. I’m here. And I’ll never let anything happen to you again. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't so much a chapter two as a part two, they're meant to be two standalone fics but they go together so here we are lol
> 
> As always please be aware of the tags, this is kind of heavy so. Proceed with caution.

Gray wanted desperately to put it all behind him. He wanted to be able to say that things were the way they’d always been. Once his throat healed and the bruises on his face cleared and the scars lacing his body had faded--the ones he never, ever intended to let MacCready see, but how he planned on pulling that one off, he wasn’t sure yet--he thought it would all be just a distant memory, and they could go back to their usual routine, what MacCready’s friend Hancock had crudely referred to as ‘slacking off and jacking off’.

But he couldn’t.

It seemed like every stranger looked at him for just a bit too long, every trader just a little too interested in him. 

“Let me guess,” the trader at Bunker Hill whose face he didn’t recognize had said to him nonchalantly. “Shotgun shells and stimpaks, right?” 

His blood had run cold and he shook his head and left, leaving MacCready to hastily offer an apology and follow after Gray, who offered no explanation for his actions. Not that MacCready needed one.

“It’s alright, man, she’s not a Gunner,” MacCready said quietly as he caught up with Gray. His hands were shaking, and MacCready held one firmly. “Cricket said something to her before we came in.”

“How do you know?” Gray muttered, staring blankly at the ground.

“I asked,” MacCready said, hoping he was a better liar than Gray. “Gunners don’t have time for spies and mind games. You’ve seen how they come for people they want.”

Gray had.

“That’s the one,” was all he had heard before he was roughly thrown against the wall of the shithole bar he and MacCready had found themselves drowning their sorrows in that night. What a fucking laugh that was. As if they had any sorrows to drown.

The wall shuddered and protested under the strength his attackers were exerting to pin him to it-- _ unnecessary,  _ he remembered thinking dully--but nobody inside or out paid it any mind. Just another fight, as far as they were concerned.

“Word is you’ve been traveling with something of ours,” the one who had first spoken said.

“I’ve had too much to drink to play this game,” Gray said, his words beginning to slur, his Texan accent starting to creep closer to the surface.

There were three of them, he counted carefully. Two on either side of him, each holding him back by one of his arms, while the third drew close. Too close. He stank of cigarette smoke and like he hadn’t bathed in years--of course, Gray did too. Everyone did. But Gray came from a time when people went out of their way to smell of soap and flowers and other nice things, so he was the only one who noticed.

“Fine. MacCready. Where is he?”

“Who’s asking?” Gray felt a chill settling into his bones. These were Gunners, they had to be.

“Doesn’t matter. Listen. We know you’ve been fucking around with him for a while now, and we’re prepared to give you twice whatever you’ve paid him. Plus interest.”

“Interest?” Gray frowned. How much  _ had  _ he paid MacCready? 200 caps? Was that all?

“It can be anything you want. Money. Slaves. Women. We can get it for you.”

Gray scoffed, then laughed. “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t have much use for any of those.”

The Gunner curled his lip in disgust, then came close enough so that he could take Gray by the jaw. “The only reason we’re not taking MacCready right now and slitting your throat is because we don’t want to start a war,” he said, plucking uneasily at Gray’s uniform. “We  _ know _ where he is. But we want to do things diplomatically. Keep it clean.”

“Well, if you want him, it’s not gonna be clean. There’s no amount of money you could give me to turn over that boy.”

“Drake,” the one on his left said. “I think--”

“Yeah, I know,” Drake snapped, then turned his attention back to Gray. “We’d heard there was something going on between you two. I mean, we figured MacCready knew better than that, but…” He tilted Gray’s head to one side, noting the scars running prominently down his face. “Nah, you’re his type, alright. Overblown cocksucker who’s just a little too big for his boots. I know where you got these. You got ‘em on your knees, screaming like a bitch. But I bet MacCready thinks you’re hot shit, huh? Stone cold badass who--”

“He knows what they’re from,” Gray said, anger starting to bubble to the surface. He could feel his pulse throbbing in the scar over his eye, and a calm, detached voice deep inside whispered  _ you’re about to have one more if you don’t cool it, and then MacCready’s gonna find out what happened.  _ So he bit his tongue.

Drake let go of Gray, and the two others flanking him did as well. He slid to the ground in a heap, rubbing his head and cursing the hangover he knew was coming. “Listen up, pal. You’d better start making a list of things you  _ will _ take in exchange for MacCready, because we’ll be back, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

“Uh huh, fine,” Gray said absent-mindedly, growling to himself at the building pressure in his skull. 

He wanted things to be normal again. As far as he could tell, he was the only obstacle keeping them from that. Him and his constant checking over his shoulder, his lack of trust in anyone, his fear of leaving the bunker. He needed to loosen up, that was all.

“MacCready,” he said, not noticing the startled expression on MacCready’s face at the use of his actual name. “Let’s tussle. Come on. You want to?”

“That depends,” MacCready said, slowly setting down his dinner and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“On?”

“Do  _ you  _ want to?”

A pang of irritation was wedging itself deep inside Gray at the note of concern in MacCready’s voice, but he ignored it. Normalcy. He wanted normalcy. What the fuck even was normal? He was starting to forget. He slipped off their shared bunk and crouched on the floor, hands up, ready to fight. “That’s why I asked. Come on. Let’s throw down.”

An odd sense of relief came over Gray at MacCready’s eager grin, at the way the life seemed to seep back into him. Gray hadn’t even noticed it’s absence until it returned all at once. 

“Let’s do it, old man,” MacCready said, leaping off their broken couch, charging at Gray and ramming into his chest, sending him splayed out on his back. Effortlessly, Gray rolled over, taking MacCready with him and pinning him to the carpet.

“Come on, no fair,” MacCready said, struggling under Gray’s weight. “Just ‘cause you’re fat doesn’t make you a good wrestler.”

“I’m not fat,” Gray said, but his heart swelled. Tentatively, he still kept his ears pricked for the distant cock of a gun or approaching footsteps, but this...this felt normal. Or getting there, at least.

“What’s that, then?” MacCready said, twisting a hand free and cupping Gray’s stomach, smirking broadly enough that Gray could see where some of his teeth were missing. “Don’t sweat it, man. I like it. S’cute.”

“Yeah? You think I’m cute?”

“Oh, my God, yes. Especially when you’re angry.” MacCready put his hands on either side of Gray’s head and used his thumbs to push Gray’s eyebrows downward. “Yeah. Just like that. Love it.”

Gray forced a half-hearted smile, and MacCready stretched his neck to give him a quick kiss. “Love  _ you _ ,” he added, and Gray smiled again, but this time, it was genuine. He moved to get up when MacCready surprised him by flipping him back over and pinning him, holding his wrists in place above his head and shouting “ha! Gotcha!”, but Gray didn’t hear him. Panic seared every nerve in his body to a live wire, he nearly went blind from the terror that gripped him to his core.

_ They’re going to kill me. And they’re going to enjoy it.  _ Gray had to force himself to stay calm as he mounted the hill leading to the Red Rocket truck stop, empty handed. His breathing was coming in ragged bursts, his chest felt like it was slowly constricting tighter and tighter but he gritted his teeth and kept moving forward.  _ MacCready will be heartbroken, but he’ll move on. Better me than him.  _ His blood was boiling at the idea, his instincts screamed at him to fight back, to at least bring one or two Gunners down with him, but that wasn’t the deal he was offering.  _ My life for his. Take me, and leave him alone. Indefinitely. _

Sadie was furious. “You  _ said you’d have him.” _

Gray shrugged. “Plans change. I’m making you an offer.”

“I came here to settle a deal,” Sadie said, her voice low, dangerous. “If you don’t have MacCready--”

“I made it clear the first time your boys came after me that I wasn’t giving him up. So you have two options. You can give it up and call it a day, or you can take me instead.”

“And do what? What use do I have for a burned out vaultie?” Sadie’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest.

Gray set his jaw, he couldn’t choke. “Kill me. He loves me,” he said evenly, tossing his shotgun on the ground in front of him and raising his hands over his head, praying that he was wrong in his assessment that Sadie looked the type to play with her food before she ate it.

Sadie almost looked intrigued by the offer for a moment, and Gray felt his insides clench. For a second, he was a kid again, reading tattered paperbacks in the cool desert night with a flashlight under his blankets, dreaming of adventure as the Lone Ranger and eventually going out in a blaze of glory; he had never pictured it ending like this.

“No,” she said suddenly, and Gray froze. He hadn’t expected her to refuse. Before he could even drop his arms, he felt three of her comrades come up behind him, they had twisted his arms behind his back and cuffed them together. Two of them remained, one on each flank, each holding him by the upper arm. “Collar him. We’ll sell him to whoever will take him.  _ Someone _ will take him,” Sadie said, and her tone made Gray sick to his stomach.

“Please. I’ll do anything,” Gray said, afraid to struggle against his captors, afraid to turn their favor even further against him. Instead, he focused on the rising terror threatening to tear down his composure as a fourth clamped an explosive collar around his neck. It was tight, so tight, he could barely breathe and he began to feel dizzy.  _ Stay calm _ , he shouted inwardly at himself over and over but he was starting to lose sight of why. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“You had your chance, and you blew it.”

“ _ Gray!” _

MacCready was sitting in front of him, holding his hands lightly. “Gray, buddy, come back. You’re safe, it’s me, I’m so sorry--”

Gray jerked away and withdrew tightly, he was curled into a fetal position on his side now, he didn’t remember getting there but he remembered the knife, the way she cut into him and told him with a cold look in her eye that she’d do the same to MacCready when she got her hands on him, but he could barely hear her over his own voice, screaming until his throat was ragged, begging her to  _ please kill me just kill me I can’t take it please stop-- _

“Gray, listen to me, buddy, you need to come back, you’re at Starlight, you’re okay,” MacCready was drumming his fingers on the ground in front of Gray’s face, gently drawing his attention away from his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I don’t know what came over me, just come back, come back, it’s okay…”

“Don’t touch me,” Gray rasped, pulling in even tighter on himself, screwing his eyes shut and all but losing himself in his memories again. She’d made him strip, she’d paced in front of him like a cat and tore into him like one as well, his stomach, his arms, his back, demanding he tell her where MacCready was but he  _ didn’t know,  _ he fell to the ground and curled in tight on himself but she didn’t stop, she took her time in flaying open his back while he screamed and tore at his collar, desperately trying to destroy it and set it off and just end it already--

“Please, listen to me,” MacCready said, now snapping his fingers, trying anything to distract Gray. “I... shit, uh…” The memory of a lullaby he’d once heard a woman in Diamond City sing to her baby swam to the forefront of his mind, and he considered, briefly. He didn’t have a voice for singing, but...he sighed and quickly ran through the tune in his head, trying to make sure he had the words right. If not, he wasn’t sure Gray would call him on it anyway. It took him a moment to find his voice, before he settled into what he was sure was the proper rhythm.

“...whe--when you wake, you will have all the pretty little horses,” he sang quietly, expecting at any moment to feel the hot rush of blood to his ears, expecting at any second for the absurd realization that he was singing a lullaby to a grown man to crash down on him, but it never came. His voice strengthened slightly as he carried into the next verse and Gray loosened. “Bl--blacks and bays...shit, uh...dapples, yeah, dapples and greys, go to sleep, little baby,” he continued, resting a hand on Gray’s flank, who flinched slightly, then remained still. MacCready stroked his side as he went through the rest of the lullaby, repeating the passages he was sure he had right a few times, skipping over the parts he was less sure about, feeling Gray slowly relax and come back around. “It’s okay,” he said once he was finished, dropping his hand into Gray’s, who squeezed it once and sighed. He was crying again.

“I don’t know what she wanted,” Gray said, barely audible. “I told her I couldn’t tell her where you were, even if I wanted, that I’d left you behind, but I don’t think she even cared at that point. She just wanted a plaything, she’d have kept at me for weeks, if I’d lived.”

“It doesn’t matter,” MacCready said, scooting closer and draping an arm over Gray. “She’s dead. I made sure of it.” He didn’t mention that he was  _ entirely _ certain, and that even if he wasn’t, the nightmares that hounded him, the ones where he saw his bullet rip through her skull over and over were there to make sure he was, just in case. “Her and Rodriguez. Both of them are dead. They’re never coming back for you again.”

“They put me out as  _ bait, _ ” Gray said. His voice had dropped to a whisper, and MacCready wasn’t sure who he was telling. “They expected me to die of exposure through the night...they wanted you to find me like that...dead, strung up--”

“ _ Gray,” _ MacCready said firmly. He didn’t want to think about it but he knew the image was forcing it’s way into both of their minds--MacCready arriving too late, finding Gray suspended limply from blackened, oxygen-starved wrists, his head resting on his still chest, his bright eyes faded, cloudy with death and staring at nothing...

Gray said nothing, but allowed MacCready to smooth his hand along the length of his body reassuringly. “Do you know the name of that song?” he asked, finally, to distract himself.

“Um...I don’t really know. I heard someone sing it once. If I had to guess I’d say it was called  _ Pretty Little Horses _ ,” MacCready said, coloring slightly this time. “It’s a little corny, but I don’t know any others.”

“It’s  _ All The Pretty Little Horses _ , yeah. Teresa sang it to Shaun.” Gray started to sit up, and MacCready pulled him into his lap, wrapping his long, thin legs around Gray as protectively as he could, crossing his arms over Gray’s chest, putting one hand, palm down, on his heart, feeling the frantic pounding begin to slow. “He would...uh...he’d always get this stupid look on his face and point at me when she said ‘dapples and greys’.”

“He called you Gray? Not dad?”

“Kid was like, six, when I met her,” Gray said, scrubbing a hand over his face, wiping the last of the tears away into his glove. “I don’t know who his father was. She mentioned him once, said he was some asshole who lived in Jersey but that Shaun would never know him. She wanted him to think of me as his father, and I guess I tried, but...he still only ever called me Gray.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to one of the settlers that lived just outside their bunker stop on the stairs to their home and chat with her neighbor. “Did that bother you?” MacCready asked after the two people said goodnight and went their separate ways.

“Not as much as I wish it did.” Gray shrugged. “Just...couldn’t ever really connect with him.” He put his hand over MacCready’s and seemed annoyed at just how fast his pulse was, but continued. “Didn’t really want to, either. And I really don’t think he wanted me to, either. I don’t know if he just felt bitter because I didn’t care, or if he would have rather had his real dad, got it in his head somehow that  _ he  _ cared.” Gray tilted his head back, resting it on MacCready’s shoulder, closing his eyes and nuzzling against the short growth of hair along MacCready’s jawline.

“You never asked him how he felt about it?”

“I doubt he remembers at this point.” Gray’s heart was slowing immensely; he felt, to MacCready, like he was falling asleep. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I care less now than I did then. He can shove his head up his ass for all I care.”

MacCready was silent. He’d never met Shaun; truthfully, he didn’t know anything about him. Gray had remained tight-lipped on the subject, and since it clearly agitated him, MacCready never wanted to bring it up.

“But I never should have let them take him,” Gray said. “That was my fault. They took him and they killed her, and I didn’t do anything.”

“But you were on ice,” MacCready said, hugging Gray tighter, who kissed MacCready on the cheek before continuing.

“They thawed us out, so I saw the whole thing. ‘Us’, I don’t know how many of us were left at that point. Probably just the four of us.”

“Four?”

“Goldie McClintock.”

“Oh, right. Forgot about her.”

“Yeah. I’d like to,” Gray said, his voice taking on the first hint of humor that MacCready had heard in a long time. “But...no, I should have done something. I just stood there and watched. Just let it happen.”

“Gray, I’ve seen those refrigerators they locked you up in. There was no getting out unless they wanted you out. You did everything you could.”

A short pause, then Gray shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I said to myself exactly that, ‘I’m not getting out unless they want me out’. So I didn’t try. And she saw. She watched me do nothing. She was so...betrayed. I had promised her I’d keep her safe and when it came down to the wire, I...just did nothing.”

“Are you really blaming yourself for  _ everything _ that’s happened in the Commonwealth?”

Gray raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “What? Oh. No. The Institute would have gotten what they wanted, with or without Shaun.”

“They’d have taken you instead.”

An image of himself, hooked up to numerous life support tubes and wires, forced well beyond his natural life in the name of keeping their source of uncorrupt DNA around as long as they could, flashed through Gray’s mind, and it chilled him to the bone.

“But they didn’t,” MacCready said, feeling Gray start to fidget. “They took Shaun. Not you.”

“Yeah.” Gray kissed MacCready again, and this time, MacCready turned so he could return it. “Things worked out, anyway. Shaun...there’s a darkness in him that, I think, would have come out regardless, and Teresa didn’t need to see that. And I got a second chance. I didn’t deserve one, but I got it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked why I turned myself over to the Gunners, in exchange for you. Because I made a promise to someone once that I would never let anything happen to them, and I failed. I’m not going to let that happen again.” Gray sighed. “But sometimes I wonder if this isn’t a second chance at all.”

“Come on, Gray, don’t do this to yourself.”

“I just wonder sometimes if this is my punishment,” Gray said, ignoring MacCready completely. “I love you so much, you have no idea--”

“I think I could take a guess.”

“--but I know it’ll never be enough. I’m  _ going _ to fuck up one of these days, and I’m _ going _ to lose you. And--”

MacCready cut him off, hooking his finger around the neck tab of Gray’s uniform and holding him gently in place, pressing his mouth softly to Gray’s, swallowing the surprised moan that tapered off into a quiet, pleased  _ hmm _ . They both remained still for a moment, eyes closed, lips a hair’s breadth apart, until MacCready kissed him again, a little more desperate this time. “I know you’re probably not there right now and if you don’t want to that’s fine, but...the way I feel about you right now, it honestly makes me want to hurl,” he said between kisses, mumbling against Gray and nipping at his bottom lip.

“Touching,” Gray said, and MacCready snickered quietly.

“I just want to see you stop hurting. I want to see you happy again. Well. You know. As happy as you were. I just want to...I want to do this for you.”

“It’s okay. Just take it slow.”

“Lean back, then,” MacCready said eagerly, putting his hands flat against Gray’s chest and pulling him back, feeling Gray rest his weight pleasantly against him. “Let me know if you want to stop. I don’t care how badly I want it. If you want to stop, tell me, and I will.”

“Understood,” Gray said, nestling into MacCready’s arms.

“Just keep me posted, lemme know how you’re doing,” MacCready said, rubbing loose circles around Gray’s stomach, skirting closer and closer to his groin with each pass. There was a rising heat building under MacCready’s hand, making Gray whimper and spread his legs. “Do you like that?” he breathed, trailing soft kisses behind Gray’s ear, then taking it between his teeth and tugging.

“I do. I really do. Please don’t stop,” Gray said; he had started rolling his hips in time with MacCready’s touch, which had sunk even lower; now, he was tracing lazily around the bulge trapped under Gray’s flight suit. His respirations were becoming long and labored, hitching when MacCready would pause and palm his cock, rubbing the length of it with the heel of his hand.

“Still okay?” MacCready asked, and Gray answered with a needy moan. “I love when you do that,” he said, swallowing hard; he was panting now, his own cock was pressed into Gray’s backside, straining against the tight fabric of his pants. His other arm, wrapped protectively across Gray’s chest, cinched even tighter, pulling him closer but even though they wouldn’t have been able to slip a sheet of paper between them it still wasn’t close enough.

MacCready was grinding hard against Gray’s backside now, who held still, lost in the sensation that was assaulting him from both the back and the front. “I’m gonna unzip your flight suit,” he said, letting his hand trail upwards, heavily cautious about touching Gray’s neck. “Is that okay? Or should you?”

“I’ll do it,” Gray said breathlessly, hands flying to the clasp at his throat and freeing it with a single tug. He took a minute to find the zipper, his gloves were bulky and didn’t offer a lot of fine-tuned movements but when he found it he yanked it all the way down, exposing his chest and his soft stomach. MacCready let both hands play across his skin now, fingertips skating across each of his scars, stumbling when they found one they didn’t recognize, and--

“Gray, what is this?” he asked, suddenly, his voice taking a note of concern.

“Nothing,” Gray said, feeling as though a rock had dropped into his gut.  _ Shit. _

MacCready craned his neck over Gray’s shoulder, feeling out more of the scars and now actually seeing them; harsh, angry red lines that would likely never fade into the pale white lines that MacCready’s always seemed to. “Did--did she do this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gray said, covering himself back up. He pulled at the zipper, but the damn thing was stuck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just--I think we should stop, this was a mistake,” Gray said, pulling in vain at his zipper.  _ What the fuck is wrong with this thing?! _

MacCready slumped before he could stop himself; he didn’t want to guilt-trip Gray, he needed to work things out in his own time, but it had been going so well, why did it have to stop? “Is it--why?”

“I don’t want you seeing this. I don’t…” Gray gave up with his zipper, and slumped defeatedly into MacCready’s arms again, who rested his chin on Gray’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to see me like this and think...that I’m not the person I was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be the man you fell in love with, and this…” He gestured loosely at himself, at the scars crisscrossing his torso. “I’m broken. I’m not who I was. And I don’t want you to see that and...and forget who I was. And leave me behind.”

“Gray,” MacCready said, hugging him tightly again. His heart ached, in that moment he would have done anything to make him feel whole again. “I fell in love with  _ you,  _ you know? The way you burn everything you cook, and how you talk to yourself when you work. You make me laugh, and...honestly, I know it sounds dumb, but you make me feel like nobody else has ever made me feel before. And I don’t care how long you take to feel like yourself again, I don’t care if it takes the rest of my life, I want to be here to help you through this. Come on,” he added, smirking lightly. “I walked all the way to the Gunners’ fortress for you, thinking the whole time that you and Gage were sneaking around, I hauled you out of there on my back thinking you wanted nothing to do with me, you think a few scars is gonna scare me off?”

Gray sank lower into MacCready’s lap, so he could tilt his head back and look up at MacCready. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Well, it’s not. I’m not here for any of the petty shit. I’m here for  _ you. _ And I will be as long as you need me.”

“Always,” Gray said immediately, and MacCready saw that he was crying again. “Please, kid, don’t leave me, I know I did it to you but I didn’t know, I thought I was doing the right thing--”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s okay. Hey. Come on, now,” MacCready said, making a quiet ticking sound with his tongue, holding Gray tightly as sobs ripped through him, jolting them both. “I love you, remember? Even though you’re fat.”

Gray flipped over onto all fours so quickly that it nearly sent MacCready sprawling backwards. For a moment, they just looked at each other--MacCready’s eyes wide with unease as he regarded Gray, whose tear-stricken face was unclear. Then the space between them was gone as they came together, kissing one another deeply in a frenzied rush. MacCready felt Gray’s hands roaming his body; they started on his shoulders, traveling down his arms, pausing when their hands met but only long enough to twine their fingers together for a brief moment. Then MacCready shook himself free and he flung his arms around Gray’s waist, tracing the length of his spine, moving around to Gray’s front, pushing his flight suit down over his arms, the scars already forgotten.

MacCready gasped when he felt Gray lift him off the ground and stand up; he hugged Gray tightly, nuzzling against the juncture of his neck and shoulder until he sat down on the edge of their bunk. MacCready clung to him, lost in the feeling of Gray’s hands uneasily searching his body; his breathing was short and quick as Gray slipped his shirt over his head and they fell back onto the mattress, MacCready tentatively pinning him in place.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better,” Gray breathed, and MacCready bent to Gray’s stomach, brushing first his fingertips, then his lips softly against the longest of the scars; it ran from his collarbone to his navel, and Gray shuddered. He propped himself up onto his elbows at the sound of MacCready undoing his belt and kicking his pants off, but quickly had to lie back down as his ankles were hitched over MacCready’s shoulders, and he couldn’t help but notice how the younger man’s frame shook under the weight. Before he could say anything though, he felt MacCready inside him, working him open gently with his fingers. He let his head fall back as a grunt slipped out from between his teeth, his body felt like it was coming undone, MacCready had replaced his fingers with his cock and was thrusting into him with a slow, steady pace that made him feel as though he were going to cry again. 

He took his own cock in his hand and stroked it in time with MacCready, groaning loudly as he came, then curling in tightly on himself, allowing MacCready to settle in next to him, embracing him from behind and draping the thin wool blanket over the both of them.

“You didn’t finish,” Gray muttered, rolling onto his back and putting an arm around MacCready, who rested his head on Gray’s chest.

“It’s not really that important.” MacCready closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. “Do you...do you feel better? “

Gray was silent for a moment, and MacCready’s eyes snapped open. “Was that--I shouldn’t have done that, should I? I rushed it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I--”

“No, it’s not that. I feel better, I do. But not in the way you were hoping.”

“I--what do you mean?”

“It’s...going to be a while before I’m myself again, kid. If ever. And I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t know any medical professionals who would prescribe a good dicking.” Gray felt MacCready flush, and he gave him a quick squeeze. “They’re all dead now, though, so fuck ‘em.”

“There’s a doctor spinning in his grave somewhere, just knowing that you’ve somehow managed to survive as long as you have.”

“Let him,” Gray said, closing his eyes, feeling the first restful sleep he would have in weeks start to overtake him. “Now, come on. Go to sleep. I’m not a young man anymore, I can’t keep up with you.”


End file.
